


Kindred Souls

by mystery_knight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Other, Prostitution, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_knight/pseuds/mystery_knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime Lannister and Sandor Clegane bond over a visit to a brothel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Souls

Cersei is recovering from the birth of their second son and has only attention for the babe, something Jaime has no interest in. He feels like drinking tonight so he joins the Hound when he sees the man leaving the castle. But it is not a tavern Sandor heads to. Sandor stops outside an upscale brothel and grins at him. "A fine place to break your vows, Kingslayer."

Jaime smirks back and decides he will stay anyway. Cersei does not understand why he allows Sandor to call him "Kingslayer." She feels it is disrespectful, but Jaime allows it because he knows the other man respects him as a warrior and because he feels a certain admiration for Clegane's open disdain for the lies of chivalry.

The inside of the brothel is richly if tastelessly decorated, and a black-skinned woman greets them warmly. Half a dozen scantily-clad whores strike seductive poses. Jaime lets his gaze linger on one and smirks as she sticks her buxom chest out further. 

"Which one will you be having?" Sandor asks. He might address Jaime as "Kingslayer" but he knows his place as a Lannister man and he knows Jaime has first pick. 

Jaime feels alive only when fighting or fucking, and he knows the joy Sandor gets from battle possibly exceeds even his own. He finds himself curious to know whether the Hound fucks like he fights. "Pick one and we'll share."

Sandor looks surprised but he does not say anything. He studies the whores before deciding on a brunette with perky teats and painted red lips. The chosen whore smiles at them both, though only the smile she gives Jaime is genuine, and introduces herself as Jeyne. Jaime doubts it is her real name and in any case he does not care about her name. 

He follows her to the chamber where she plies her trade. It has a big bed against one wall, and a couch and a small table with a flagon of wine and two pewter cups against the other. The whore looks from him to Sandor and back, as if deciding how to start. Sandor decides for her.

He pushes her down to her knees and unlaces his breeches. "You know what to do, wench," he says, and the woman opens her mouth for his cock. 

Jaime crosses his arms over his chest and leans agains the door to take in the show. Clegane's cock is like the rest of his body: big and hard. Jaime doubts the whore is feigning her struggle to fit the swollen cockhead in her mouth. 

"Piss poor cocksucker," the Hound mutters. He grips the poor woman's head between his huge hands and begins to fuck her face. The whore flails her arms for a moment before her professionalism kicks in and she clasps Sandor's buttocks as if urging him on. 

Jaime is fascinated by the sight. Cersei sucks his cock gladly and has told him she loves the feeling of power it gives her. A man with his cock in Cersei's mouth is at her mercy, to her way of thinking. But then Cersei is a Lannister and the Queen and no one has ever treated her as Sandor is treating this whore. There can be no doubt that it is the whore who is at Sandor's mercy, dependent upon him for simple air to breathe. 

It must be as sweet a feeling as shoving his blade into a man's belly and taking his life. It must be even sweeter than the mere physical sensation of sheathing his cock someplace hot and wet. It would be for Jaime. 

Then Sandor groans low in his throat and holds the whore's head in place flush against his stomach. He doesn't release her until he has ridden out his orgasm. He sprawls upon the couch and drains a winecup in one gulp, ignoring the whore retching up his seed along with her last meal. 

"You turn, Kingslayer," Clegane says.

Jaime lets no challenge go unanswered. But he has never been unfaithful to Cersei and he will not start being unfaithful now. However he's not willing to let the evening's entertainment end so soon. "Play with yourself, woman," he commands.

The whore has wiped her face clean and she hastens to obey him. She reclines on the bed and spreads her legs so wide Jaime can see her slit from across the room. She starts with her breasts. She squeezes and kneads them, and twists her nipples, all the while moaning loudly. Jaime knows her moans are feigned but it is a pleasing sound nonetheless. 

She slides one hand down to her cunt and rubs at it. She brings her fingers to her mouth and, looking Jaime in the eye, she sucks them one by one. Jaime's cock has been hard since he watched the Hound use her earlier, and he aches to take himself in hand. But he thinks that is what some green boy would do so he does not. 

Jaime looks over at Sandor and sees that the other man is hard again. "She's ready to be fucked proper, wouldn't you say?"

"Aye," Clegane answers hoarsely. 

"Fuck her then."

"It's your turn."

Jaime grins. "I like to watch," he says, not untruthfully.

As Sandor climbs to his feet, the whore turns over and raises herself up on her hands and knees. A look of anger crosses Sandor's scarred face and when he reaches the whore, he slaps her buttocks once, twice. The whore whimpers and both pale cheeks turn pink. "Not so hard, ser," she begs.

"I'm no ser," Sandor snaps, but he does not resume spanking her. He takes his thick cock in hand and works it into the waiting cunt. The whore cannot be tight, not in her profession, but the penetration seems difficult for her. She moans quietly and her face betrays discomfort. It is far more erotic than her earlier mummer's performance.

Jaime seats himself on the couch and pours himself some wine. It is a poor vintage, to his surpise. He expected better from a brothel this expensive. But then men do not come here for the wine, do they. He watches Sandor plow the whore without mercy. Clegane's hold on her waist is the only thing keeping the whore from being driven into the headboard as his powerful body slams into her again and again. 

Fuck it, Jaime decides. He unlaces his breeches and frees his erection. He spits in his hand in lieu of a woman's juices and begins to work his rock hard cock. He matches Sandor's rhymth. He slides his hand down every time Sandor thrusts into the whore, and slides his hand up every time Sandor eases back. Sandor will not come soon, not after sating himself earlier, so Jaime wrestles down the first stirring of orgasm. 

He does not want to fuck Sandor and he does not want to be fucked by Sandor. Rather he feels a connection of kindred spirits, similar to the connection he once felt to Arthur Dayne. Clegane is no gallant knight, but he has all the stength and skill and savagery only those best blessed by the Warrior possess. He has sparred with Sandor in the training yard and fought beside him during war, and if not for his love for his sister, he would join him in this battle too.

He imagines himself aiding Sandor in assaulting this whore's body. He imagines fucking her mouth while Sandor fucks her cunt. How sweet such a thing would be. Jaime can't hold back any longer, but luckily Sandor is close. 

"Fuck," the Hound swears as he comes, and Jaime comes with him. 

They don't speak about it after leaving the brothel and nothing changes between them, but Jaime knows he has a brother in spirit.


End file.
